


Dining with the in-laws

by toutcequonveut



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Awkwardness, Comedy, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Food, Humor, In-Laws, M/M, One Shot, gratuitous descriptions of food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27786472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toutcequonveut/pseuds/toutcequonveut
Summary: Harry Potter faces the greatest struggle in his life: dinneralonewith his in-laws, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy!(No Voldemort/Everyone Lives AU)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 11
Kudos: 128





	Dining with the in-laws

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [bafflinghaze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bafflinghaze/pseuds/bafflinghaze) and [notobvioustome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notobvioustome/pseuds/notobvioustome) for helping me work out the kinks in this fic, which was inspired by real-life events the last time I visited my in-laws (except I'm not a Gryffindor so I just hid in my room until my partner woke up and could shield me from the awkwardness)

Harry woke as he usually did: slow blinks, blurry world that failed to focus because his glasses lay abandoned on the nightstand, deep breaths as his mind cleared of fog. Then he abruptly realized that he was not in his bed.

Slowly, the events of the previous day came back to him. A long bout of short-distance Portkeys as he and his husband carefully transported back the magical cage of invasive species that some _idiot_ had transported to Malaysia from England. To make matters more difficult, the species was extremely volatile/sensitive to magic and also incredibly rare. Neville had asked with watery eyes if Harry might be able to deliver it to him rather than just destroying it outright or turning it over to the Ministry, and Harry cursed his bleeding heart as he answered that of course he would. The result was an exhausting and gruelling 18-hour trip involving far too many Portkey charms and barely any time to appreciate all the new and exciting places they landed in each jump. Harry almost wished they’d taken a Muggle airplane, except bringing a frisky, temperamental mass of thick writhing vines on a flight would probably violate the International Statute of Secrecy forwards, backwards, and sideways.

But they had made it in the end, depositing the Squirmy Wormy Cataclysmal Clematis into Neville’s eager hands at noon the following day (or was it the same day? Time zones were the worst). Then, Draco looked into Harry’s eyes and declared, “If I have to Apparate or Portkey one more time I will _dismember_ something. Preferably that viney bastard. Why did we get into the business of Magical Species control again? Did you Imperius me?”

Harry laughed easily with his husband, knowing full well that despite the occasional demanding hours, Draco loved the business they had built together as consultants for the Ministry. That being said, it still left them the question of how they would get from Longbottom Manor to the home the two of them had built in Hogsmeade. “We could Floo, maybe?”

“Harry, I will throw up in your shoes while you’re still wearing them.” 

“Okay, maybe not then.” Harry chewed his lip in thought. “How about staying at your parents’ place? It’s not so far from here. We could fly.” To strengthen his argument, Harry pulled their brooms from his pocket and Unshrunk them. They had been planning to fly in the first place, but the Squirmy Wormy Cataclysmal Clematis turned out to have a fear of heights and had uttered a very alarming shriek whenever they lifted it off the ground. 

Draco eyed him strangely. “Are you sure? You know we get along better with your parents than mine.”

“Hey, they’re _our_ parents now. Even if I don’t agree with everything he says, your dad’s still your dad and your mum’s still your mum. It wouldn’t be fair if we never spent time with them, and you know they’d love to have us there.”

“If you’re sure,” Draco said casually, though his eyes betrayed his pleased reaction at Harry volunteering to spend time with his family.

Harry simply smiled and kissed his husband. The two of them mounted their brooms and flew the short distance to Malfoy Manor. As expected, Lucius and Narcissa were overjoyed by the surprise visit as well as understanding of the circumstances that had led to it.

Narcissa showed Draco to his room and ushered Harry in as well before closing the door, the embedded Silencing Charm settling into place once the portal was closed. The two of them rushed through their nighttime routines and then crashed into bed.

“I am going to sleep for the next 92 hours,” Draco announced. His eyes were closed, and Harry marveled anew at the blonde sweep of his eyelashes and the fine bones of his face. His husband was surely the most beautiful man in the entire world. While it was more fun to spend time with his awake husband than an asleep husband, Harry had a special appreciation for how beautiful Draco was in repose.

“I’ll miss you.” Harry stuck out his lip exaggeratedly and turned on the puppy dog eyes he’d learned at two years old from Sirius.

Draco cracked his eyes open and smiled the tiniest bit. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?” he murmured. “Very well, I will deign to sleep for only nine hours.” His eyes snapped open with an almost audible click. “But if you _dare_ to wake me up before then, I promise you the consequences will. Be. Dire.”

Harry thought uneasily of the last _incident_ and hastily agreed with those terms before settling into Draco’s spoonhold and closing his own eyes.

That had been seven hours ago, according to the fumbled Tempus charm Harry cast. In other words, the gaping maw that seemed to have replaced his stomach would have to be addressed without Draco. Harry’s stomach grumbled on cue, whining for attention since he hadn’t fed it anything at all the past day.

He swung his feet over the edge of the bed, chugged three glasses of Aguamenti-ed water, then got dressed so he felt a bit more like a human being. As he opened the door, the clinking sounds of tableware wafting up the corridor suddenly imparted three facts onto his brain.

Number one: it was dinnertime, and dinnertime at Malfoy Manor was An Affair. At Potter Place, dinner was a casual thing. You were still expected to show up because family time was family time, but James and Lily had a simple small wooden table near the kitchen at which regular dinners would be held. Sometimes Sundar, the Potter kitchen house elf, would cook, and sometimes Lily would cook, directing James like a sous chef, because she missed the feeling of creating a meal, and sometimes James would cook for as long as it took someone to find and stop him from burning down the kitchen.The banquet dining table in the next room was only for holidays and rarely saw any use (for food, anyway). 

The Malfoys, on the other hand, ate a course meal served by House Elves at their huge oak dining table _every day, three times a day_. It was like being at Hogwarts again and having to go to the Great Hall for meals. There was no way Harry could eat quickly and then excuse himself. 

The first time Harry had wandered down with the intention of nipping a cheesy toast for breakfast before returning to fuck his husband’s brains out, he had ended up being ushered to sit at the table and awkwardly looking up every few seconds and making eye contact with Lucius, who _smiled kindly_ at him. Harry returned the smile, slammed his eyes downward, and then unintentionally repeated the whole cycle again a few minutes later when his eyes naturally drifted upwards again. The worst part was, he couldn’t even think of a good subject for small talk. After a short stint about the weather, Harry found himself in a conversation topic desert, his natural awkwardness amplified ever more by his discomfort at the whole situation. Draco was the loquacious one, the one who could easily grease the wheels of social convention. Needless to say, Harry was not eager to face any other meals without his husband at his side.

Which led to point number two: under no circumstances could Harry wake Draco to protect Harry from his parents’ social niceties. Not only had his husband personally threatened him, but Harry also could not in good conscience rouse Draco from his sorely needed sleep. He had, after all, borne the brunt of the traveling fiasco yesterday. When Harry had held it, the Squirmy Wormy Cataclysmal Clematis would whine and, well, squirm madly. For some reason, it had settled more calmly—though not truly calmed—in Draco’s arms, and so Draco had had to contend with its purring and fussing the entire 18 hours.

The gist of it was, hiding behind Draco was not an option.

Point number three was really the cincher of the whole deal: under no circumstances could Harry deny his hunger any longer. They hadn’t had time to eat at all yesterday, given that it was already taking far too long to transport the fucking mass of vines. Now, Harry was so famished that his stomach had decided to start a constant audible grumble concert. Harry was vaguely certain the growls were to the tune of A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love. 

The combination of these three key points meant that Harry was going to have to go down and endure a course meal with his in-laws _alone_. He’d rather willingly let an unhinged megalomaniac Dark Lord _Avada Kedavra_ him in the Forbidden Forest.

Not that he would ever have to do such a thing, of course.

Harry took a deep breath and reminded himself he’d been Sorted Gryffindor back in the day. The feelings of courage and bravery that had welled within his eleven-year old self on his Sorting day tiptoed in weakly, crawling out of the box of other notions Harry had discarded after determining that the Hogwarts house system was separatist bullshit. Armed with a loose collection of vague bravado and mostly anxious trepidation, Harry slipped out of Draco’s bedroom and descended to the dining room.

“Harry!” Narcissa cried warmly, letting her spoon of soup fall gracefully back into the bowl so she could stand and welcome him with open arms. The spoon didn’t even clink. “You’re just in time, we’ve only begun the soup course.”

“Come join us,” Lucius invited, also standing up.

See?! This was too awkward! _Both_ of the people that he should stand on ceremony for were now standing on ceremony for _him_. How was he supposed to navigate social cues if the Malfoys Sr. kept subverting them while simultaneously expecting them? His Potter training hadn’t prepared him for this!

Out of the corner of his eye, behind Lucius and Narcissa, Harry suddenly spotted a house elf coalesce into existence. Zippy, if he wasn’t mistaken, frantically made eye contact with him and mimed bowing multiple times, then raised a hand to his mouth as if eating soup. Harry mimicked him instinctively, sweeping into a medium bow while saying, “It would be my, er, honor to join you for dinner this night.”

Lucius gave a warm smile in approval. “It would be our honor to accommodate you,” he pronounced. At his look, one of the chairs across from where he and Narcissa sat scooted back, not even wrinkling the rug beneath it. 

Harry lowered himself carefully into the chair.

Lucius and Narcissa did the same.

The house elf gave a thumbs up and disappeared.

He barely had time to wonder what had just happened when a bowl of lobster bisque topped artfully with lightly sautéed garlic lobster tail and two slices of artfully placed crostini whirled itself into being in front of him. Harry vaguely wondered if he could get away with eating several portions of soup to fill his belly before feigning food poisoning to escape the situation he now found himself in. He discarded the notion as easily as it had occurred to him; soup had its place but not as the sole source of nourishment after a full day of not eating. 

Fortunately, Lucius and Narcissa lapsed into eating their soups and the occasional quiet comment between themselves. Just as Harry was mopping up the last of the bisque in his bowl, thinking he may get through this unscathed, Lucius spoke.

“So, son, we understand you’ve been quite busy with your trade lately. Now, it was always our intention that Draco take up managing the family businesses rather than joining the working class, but of course we’ve accepted that his choices are his own.”

“Mmrgh,” Harry replied articulately, his saliva caught in his throat.

Lucius politely ignored Harry’s anxiety flaring and continued, “That all being said, I’m not quite certain I understand exactly what it is you do. If you could remind me?”

Harry’s mind flashed through the other six times Lucius had brought up this exact question. It wasn’t his fault, really (though his own mum and dad had no problems remembering what their sons did for work). Harry’s job involved him doing a lot of different things that did not seem related to one occupation. The kinds of hijinks he and Draco got up to would be better left unsaid in the company of Draco’s parents. 

“I run a company that acts as a consultant to the Ministry’s Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and specializes in invasive species control. As the wixen world has become increasingly globalized—” Harry held back from his usual explanation that it was solely Magical Britain that was suddenly realizing that a whole world existed outside of its own arse and was unfortunately approaching globalization with an air of colonialism “—there has been a proportional increase in the unwanted spread of plants and animals native to the Isles to places _beyond_ the Isles, where they wreak havoc on the local ecosystems. My company is an alternative to the mindless destruction of invasive species. The Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures consults us to remove those species in question and restore them to their native habitats.”

“Oh, is that so?” Lucius commented vaguely, his eyes glazed over like an American donut. 

A house elf popped into existence, different from the previous one. Curie held her hand palm in front of her chest and mimed pushing down several times. 

_Lower the level,_ Harry interpreted. He quickly backpedaled. “I’m a humane exterminator for the environment.”

“Oh, is that so?” Lucius said again, but this time with real understanding in his gaze. 

“It’s so admirable that you don’t shy away from doing the work of the labor class,” Narcissa cooed.

Harry smiled through gritted teeth anyway. She probably didn’t even realize her compliment was backhanded and truly “admired” him for—he mentally checked his notes—having a job.

He was saved from having to come up with a response by the disappearance of the soup course and the arrival of a truly pitiful salad course. Harry could count the leaves in the bowl. Lily would have rioted at the thought of this pittance being the extent of vegetable intake in Pureblood households and in fact frequently went on rants following Malfoy-Potter dinner parties.  
Harry poked at the delicate cubes of crab arranged atop a bed of circular apple and cucumber slices. Exactly eight leaves of mint and cress and five bright marigold petals were scattered across the top. 

He ate the whole thing anyway even though he was morally opposed to the concept of rich people salads. Principles were for people who hadn’t Portkeyed for eighteen hours the day before.

Given the minuscule size of it, the salad course finished in a blessed absence of conversation. Harry made sure to look up every so often at Lucius and Narcissa and give little silent smiles even though his internal monologue was one drawn-out scream at how very awkward the whole thing was.

As the plates cleared from the table, Harry happened to look up for another scheduled smile to show how engaging and charming he was. At the same time, a house elf zapped into being. Rilly pointed several times at Lucius’s hair, then made an exaggerated “WOW” expression.

“Lucius, did you do something new with your hair?” Harry asked dutifully. He made sure to lean forward slightly and widen his eyes to sell the acting. “It looks especially, er, luscious tonight.”

Rilly beamed at him and disappeared from the dining room.

“Why yes I did, as a matter of fact! It’s a new treatment. My hairstylist has been attending masterclasses in how to replicate the characteristic unicorn shimmer into human hair.” He slipped a hand beneath his long curtain of hair and drew it out. The resulting waterfall of platinum blonde _did_ seem to shimmer more than usual, but Harry didn’t frequently spend much time looking at Lucius Malfoy’s hair, so he couldn’t definitively say one way or the other.

“It looks fantastic!” Harry said anyway. 

“Yes, I am quite pleased with it so far. Though of course, I still maintain my use of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion.” Lucius sent a wink at Harry. Harry instinctively moved to the side to dodge it. Draco would take great offense if Harry received any winks other than his own, especially from his father. Okay, he probably wouldn’t actually care at all, but Harry felt a bit weird about it.

“Oh yes, dear Lucius is likely the largest source of profits for the Sleekeazy Potion. You may as well hand him 51% of the company!” Narcissa tittered.

Harry laughed uncomfortably, his eyes shifting wildly across the table to try and find a distraction before this thread of conversation could go any further. This wasn’t the first time Narcissa had made that joke, and each time he feared for his safety as the heir to the Sleekeazy Potion formula and husband to the son of, ahem, _money-motivated_ individuals. 

As if someone (probably a house elf) saw his desperation, the next course poofed into being on the table. The plates held graceful arcs composed of thin slices of roasted duck accompanied by three miniature carrots, two baby leeks, and two pearl onions drizzled artfully with an orange sauce. A cylinder of sweet potato mash that probably had some kind of overly fancy name completed the meal.

“Ah, sweet potato fondants! The elves must have known you were here. This is a new recipe I had at Estelle Rosier’s dinner party the other day and have been raving about ever since. Do be sure to try it, dear.” Narcissa smiled warmly at him to emphasize how very kind and welcoming she was. 

Harry examined the cylinder of sweet potato uncertainly. Fondant? Wasn’t that some kind of icing? Was there a cake or something under there? 

He took a careful bite and discovered that it was just sweet potato. Rich people food was the _worst_. Why did they just assign things new names so they didn’t have to pretend they were eating what poor people ate? 

Still, Harry wolfed down every bite. The duck was tender and rich, melting in his mouth and blending with the sweetness of the orange sauce. It paired well with the sweet potato cylinder, which was quickly becoming Harry’s favorite part of the meal. Truly, the noble potato reigned supreme among all forms of sustenance.

Lucius interrupted Harry’s train of thought before his brain could continue waxing poetic about potatoes. “Son, we just want you to know that we never want you or Draco to feel pressured into having children on our behalf.”

Harry choked on his last mouthful of potato, which was a complete waste because now his last bite was ruined. Three house elves winked into being behind the Malfoys, but he held up his hand as the coughing subsided, then sipped some water. When he felt he could speak without hacking up a lung, he looked up and said, “Thank you for telling me. I’m er, honored by your considerations, Mister—I mean, Father.”

“Of course,” Lucius replied. He turned to Narcissa and continued, “We never want you to feel the kind of parental pressure we faced ourselves. Pureblood culture _does_ love heirs, but since your marriage, we’ve been making an effort to be better than our forebears. Additionally, the fertility treatments I had to go through to bear Draco were—”

“Now, dear, I don’t think Harry needs to hear about the particulars,” Narcissa coughed politely, and, if Harry was reading her right, embarrassedly. 

While Lucius was speaking, Harry felt a nudge on his plate where another mound of the delicious sweet potato had appeared. Harry made a mental note to ask Draco what kinds of gifts the Malfoy elves liked: he would have to work 200% harder on showing them his appreciation from now on. 

Their continued approval warmed his heart. To be treated so well by the Manor’s house elves meant that the House approved of him deeply, so much so that the elves connected to its magic responded in kind. Draco had told him that the elves would sometimes “forget” to serve his previous partner dessert.

As if in contrast to his thoughts, the dinner plates disappeared and plates with globes of spun sugar encasing suspended tiny treacle tarts manifested. Harry’s was distinctly larger than either of his parents-in-law, which was absolutely tragic because Harry _could not eat another bite_.

Narcissa cried in delight, not seeming to notice Harry’s dismay. “Vetty has outdone herself today! Dear, it was certainly worth it to send one of our elves to that pastry and baking institution like the Potters suggested.”

“It truly was,” Lucius agreed. “I admit, I wasn’t certain Lily was speaking sense at the time, but…” 

Harry stopped following the conversation because behind Lucius, a new house elf had suddenly appeared. Nuni tilted her head at Harry inquisitively. He glanced desperately at the treacle tart globe, patted his belly, then looked back up at Nuni, hoping she would understand his message.

She frowned slightly, then snapped her fingers silently and mimed drinking. Harry picked up his goblet, confused but beyond willing to trust the Malfoy house elves at this point. He took a sip, and Nuni smiled before disappearing.

The overstretched feeling of Harry’s stomach had also disappeared. Nuni must have put an appetite-increasing potion in his drink! He glowed with happiness and affection as he cut into the sparkling globe and tucked into his dessert. 

As the taste of delightfully charred sugar spread over his tongue, Harry tuned back into the conversation and realized that the Malfoys were looking at him expectantly. “Yes?” he asked, hoping he hadn’t put his foot in it.

“We simply wanted to make sure you were enjoying your meal. We love having you here, Harry dear,” Narcissa stated.

“Absolutely,” Lucius added. “You know you’re always welcome here, and you don’t even have to come with Draco to spend time here. Our home is your home.”

“Oh yes, anything you want to do, just let us know. We want this to be your second home.” Narcissa nodded decisively. 

“Well said, Narcissa.” Lucius set down his fork, and his empty plate disappeared. “Why don’t we head to the drawing room for after-dinner drinks? We’d love to hear more about your work, Harry.”

Narcissa stood as well, and in the ensuing bustle of leaving the dining room, Harry negotiated with the house elf in the corner using a complicated series of eyebrow waggles to save his dessert for later tonight. Preferably at midnight. When there would be no pesky in-laws wanting to—he shuddered internally— _socialize_ with him as he ate.

Predictably, the conversation about Harry’s work ended up shifting to topics concerning Lucius and Narcissa’s life. Harry supposed he couldn’t blame them; most people, let alone rich socialites, simply didn’t think wrangling invasive plants was very exciting. Still, it was disheartening to think that as much as they _said_ they supported him, his Malfoy parents didn’t exactly do a great job in _showing_ it. They were effusive in words and declarations of love, but Harry had yet to see them show genuine interest in either his or Draco’s hobbies or jobs. The whole ordeal made him long for Draco, who would at least be able to manage the conversation so it would flow in a smooth stream rather than like crashing waves against the unyielding rock face of Harry’s awkwardness. 

Speaking of which, Harry checked the time and realized he was in the clear. He stood and announced, “Father, Mother, thank you so much for your wonderful hospitality. If you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to go check on Draco.”

He left the room, hearing tittering murmurs about “young love” as he gently guided the door closed behind him. When he was certain it was shut, he took off sprinting down the hall to Draco’s room. He flung the door open and skidded inside, throwing himself into the sheets to snuggle into his...absent husband?

Harry sat up abruptly, sending seventeen pillows tumbling to the floor. Even after patting and prodding every inch of the improbable square footage of the huge bed, he still came up emptyhanded and Draco-less. 

Draco wasn’t in the bed, or in the bathroom, and when Harry summoned Gunter, Draco’s personal elf, he learned that Draco wasn’t in the Manor at all. 

Well it was odd of Draco to have gone home without speaking to his parents, but Harry shrugged it off. He probably hadn’t wanted to deal with his parents’ overbearing love. Harry made his way to the Floo in the corner of Draco’s room and spoke the name of the little Hogsmeade cottage he and Draco had made their home.

It was dark.

Harry frowned. Draco clearly hadn’t been here, but if that was the case, where could he be?

As if on cue, the Floo flared to life again and spat out his beautiful husband. Draco took one look at Harry and shot into his arms, holding him tight. Harry gave as good as he got, the strength of his embrace powered by the swell of love he felt every time he saw Draco.

“What’s all this for?” Harry mumbled into Draco’s shoulder. “And where were you?”

“Where was I? Where were _you?”_ Draco countered. “I assumed you’d gone to your parents’ place for dinner since I know you feel awkward around mine. When I got there, it was just me—I don’t know where Amaryllis and Iris were—and James and Lily insisted I eat dinner with them.”

“My sisters were probably at Andromeda’s hanging out with Tonks,” Harry replied. “Wait, you went to my parents’ house? Because you didn’t think I’d eat with yours?”

“Yes, and it was horrifying. Your mother looked me in the eye and suggested I had slept in late because of the good dicking skills and Very Large and Long seduction tool you inherited from your father, then started hinting unsubtly at grandchildren!”

“Shove off, she did _not!_ ” Harry pulled away, laughing. 

“Not in so many words, but I assure you the implication was certainly there. And she did say, and I quote, ‘You two would make the most beautiful genetic babies’ with a disturbingly dreamy look on her face.”

“I mean… she’s right about that. Have you _seen_ yourself in the mirror?”

“Harry!” Draco pulled his husband back into his arms. After a moment, he mumbled, “I concede that point.”

There was a moment of comfortable silence as the two stood, basking in the simple joy of holding each other.

Eventually, Draco spoke again. “So where _were_ you, then, if you weren’t at Potter Place?”

Harry leaned up and kissed Draco’s chin. As he guided Draco to the couch to sit down, a plate holding a half-eaten treacle tart globe manifested into being on the side table. He grinned and began speaking. “Well you see, it started with me waking up and realizing three very important points…”

**Author's Note:**

> [Reference for the main course](https://www.greatbritishchefs.com/features/english-dinner-party-menu)
> 
> Thanks for reading! :D


End file.
